Angel Blood
by CuteLittleGargoyle
Summary: What if Dean got addicted to angel blood? In particular, the blood of his favorite angel, Castiel. Also, they encounter prophetic fortune cookies. Set somewhere during season 9, definitely before the finale. Could be slash, but maybe not. I leave the interpretation up to you.


Tired down to their bones following a successful chase, two hunters walked into a Chinese restaurant. Having had too close a look at the intestines of a murder victim, the older brother had decided to try something that wasn't a cheeseburger. The tiny, dimly lit Chinese place was just around the corner. Sighing, he slid into the booth and let Sam order for both of them. His little brother had been happy enough stopping at a restaurant that wasn't a diner that Dean felt certain he would try to convince him to do it again. And that meant good, not-overly-healthy food. Sure enough, Sam came back with plates of noodles, rice, curry, soup, and few enough vegetables.

"Not a bad hunt," Sam remarked tiredly as he helped himself to a third plate of something that smelled heavenly. "Yeah," Dean grunted. "Leave some of that orange-and-green stuff for me, okay?" They spent the rest of the meal in silence, until Dean was startled by the sound of Sam chuckling. He waved a small slip of paper in front of Dean's face. Chinese place... fortune cookies... right. "It says 'Your life will be filled with magical moments.'"

Dean grinned. "Magical moments, huh? I don't think they meant magical monsters." "Let's see what the fortune cookies have to say about you," Sam suggested, and tossed Dean a cookie. Dean broke it through the middle and grabbed the paper. "Nu-uh. You have to eat it first!" Sam said quickly. Dean stuffed the cookie in his mouth and reached for the paper again, still chewing. At least it gave him an excuse to choke. Words wrote themselves along the slip of paper: '_your life is in danger, Dean Winchester. Leave town tonight by yourself or face the worst_.' "Are you okay?" asked Sam. "Fine," Dean answered. He watched as Sam leaned over to read his fortune. "'_You need only look to your reflection for inspiration. Because you are beautiful_.' Awww, that's just perfect for you, Dean!" Sam laughed. He clapped Dean on the back and excused himself to the restroom.

Dean took fifteen seconds to consider, then laid some bills on the table and headed out. By the time Sam got back, he and the Impala were long gone.

Twenty miles away from town, Dean parked the Impala and started walking. Hell if he would let the supernatural baddies touch his most prized possession. He had only walked a few hundred yards over dying grass when the first blast sent him to his knees. The ground shook and a red light rose from a newly-formed crater a few feet away. Dean ran. He kept his feet when the next blast hit, but he could tell that its red glow was closer as it joined the first one in pursuit. There were five more blasts across the empty field. The fifth one was too close-it sent Dean flying. He barely had enough time to think he was done for... but there was a barrier of white light, and Castiel was with him.

"C-Cas..." Dean groaned dizzily. "Dean," Cas said, with his usual calm attitude in the midst of disaster. "This was caused by the Mark. The red lights are ancient vengeful spirits, and they are drawn to the Mark every thousand years to feed you violent-" Cas grabbed Dean's shoulders and rolled them both to the left, "-energy. But it is alright, I have the antidote. It will make them stop." Another vengeful spirit crashed into the ground where they had been lying moments before.

"Hurry up and give me the antidote," Dean said, finally catching his breath. His ears were still ringing. "Actually, mojo us out of here and then give it to me." Castiel sighed. "I cannot mojo you out of here. The power of the spirits is too strong."

"Then give me the antidote already!"

"I am afraid I cannot. It slipped out of my pocket and landed in that crater over there," Castiel said with dismay.

"Well, now what? I accept the vengeful spirits?"

"No!" Castiel said quickly, momentarily losing his calm. "It would make you... not you anymore, Dean. There is another way." Castiel's angel blade appeared in his hand

"Wha-?"

Before Dean could say anything else, Cas delicately slid the blade across his palm and mumbled some words in a language that Dean didn't know but didn't think was angelic. There was a faint red glow... more pink than red, Dean thought hazily. Cas held his hand to Dean's lips. "Drink," he said quietly. Dean could barely hear him over the angry murmurs of the spirits that crowded and pushed at the barrier Cas had erected in a small dome above them. There wasn't room to move. Dean thought of Sammy. His brother had been messed up for life because of drinking demon blood. What would angel blood do? It didn't matter. Castiel was lifting Dean's head with one hand and the other was dripping blood onto Dean's face.

"Drink, Dean" Castiel insisted. Dean opened his mouth. It didn't taste like blood. It was too sweet, too good, and it stung his tongue in a way that made him think of going numb. There was a sensation of incredible power, like he was becoming one of the creatures he had sworn to fight... but there was also a strange taste that made him think of Cas. Where there was mostly power and violence, there was a tiny hint of clarity, hope, and generosity singing along with it. _This was Castiel's blood._ And Dean wanted more. He needed it. He gripped Cas' arm and atatched himself to his friend's hand like a feeding vampire. He barely noticed when the vengeful spirits left them and only stopped when Castiel's shield flickered once and disappeared. The angel was looking down at him wide-eyed, with an expression that was even less readable than usual.

"Dean," he said finally, "we need to get back." Dean nodded, and Cas zapped them into the Impala. It was a silent drive back into town. "What were you doing in that field?" asked Castiel. "Do not tell me that you knew the storm of vengeful spirits was coming and you were going to welcome it." Dean laughed scornfully. "I'm not that stupid, Cas. I had a warning. From a supernatural fortune cookie..."

It was close to midnight when they arrived at the hotel, but Sam was still awake. Dean squashed any feelings of guilt related to abandoning his brother without a word. As it turned out, Sam wasn't angry. He was sitting on the bed with a bag of fortune cookies and a spiral notebook. "Oh, you're back," he said lightly. "With Cas?"

Dean smiled. "I thought you would be ringing your hands and reporting me to missing persons by now, Sammy."

"Well, thanks for leaving me to figure it all out on my own," Sam said sarcastically. "However, I stopped worrying when I realized that these fortune cookies from the Chinese place are prophetic. Who knew, right?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "How did you figure that out?" Sam winced. "I got one that had my name on it... it was dramatic but it wasn't very polite."

Dean laughed, and turned to say something to Cas, but the angel had left them without even the sound of rustling wings.

A week after Sam had been insulted by a fortune cookie, they were spending most of their time at the bunker. Dean was always a bit restless without a hunt, but over the last few days he had practically been climbing the walls of the place. And he always woke up in the morning with the elusive taste of Cas' blood on his tongue- in memory, at least. It wasn't long before Dean realized that he was craving it like an addict. After three days in a row of being unable to sleep, Dean prayed for Cas while Sam was out on an errand.

"You... don't look well, Dean," said Castiel. They were standing close together in the kitchen, an area of the bunker that Dean liked to consider his.

"I'm not well," Dean said flatly.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" Cas asked.

Dean nodded. "Tell me about the effects of angel blood when a human ingests it."

"No one has ever ingested pure angel's blood before. There are various ways it can be used in potions or prepared in useful ways like in the antidote I was supposed to administer to you..."

Dean relaxed slightly as he listened to Castiel's calm, steady voice. Maybe part of his craving had just been for the angel's company... and then he inhaled at the same time as he was facing Cas, and the angel's smell was intoxicating. He sniffed again, trying not to seem too obvious.

"You need blood," Cas stated.

Dean didn't bother denying it. "It's keeping me awake at night. I can't concentrate during the daytime. I'm halfway to being a bloodsucker already."

"You're nothing like a vampire, Dean," Cas said reassuringly. "But we will find a way to fix this."

"Thanks, Cas." Dean finally managed to tear himself away from the angel and paced across the kitchen, trying to evade the seductive smell of his blood. It was useless; Dean wouldn't be surprised if he was able to smell Cas from the other side of the bunker now.

Suddenly, there was a swishing sound that would never fail to set Dean's brain on high alert. And then...the sound of slowly dripping blood. The smell was different this time, better and purer and more _Cas_. It was like the call of a summer day with a burning blue sky and the scent of a garden filled with flowers and fruit not meant for mere mortals.

"Dean," Castiel said slowly. "We are going to find a way to stop this. But in the meantime, I need you to be okay. If this will help you to stay alert and not be distracted, I will provide you with all the blood you need."

"Cas..." Dean's voice caught in his throat. He looked into Castiel's eyes, searching for any sign of disgust or fear. All he found was reassurance.

"Drink." Dean drank slowly, exerting his self control to keep from gripping Castiel's arm too tightly and to stop himself from betraying how badly he needed this.


End file.
